Wednesday, July 07, 2004

JonnyB’s holiday snaps – #3 in a series of 3.

Day three.

I step in some dog shit.

I think it was Plato who said that humour was in the misfortune of others. Might not have been. I think that’s a pretty narrow definition, and maybe Plato should have elaborated on the nob gag element a bit more, but if we stick with it then suddenly I’m the funniest man alive.

The LTLP certainly thinks so, keen classical scholar that she is. She snorts and hoots with mirth.

I hop around, shouting ‘fuck’ a lot. I don’t know why I hop, as this is unlikely to remove the dog shit from my shoe.

Obviously I have worn the chunky-soled pair, with lots of deep yet narrow declevities.

There is no possibility of compromise between dog owners and people who do not like stepping in dog shit. The government must do something.

Well it is my human right not to be exposed to other people’s stale dog shit. It is disgusting. Many people do not go to parks any more as there is so much dog shit. So they don’t exercise, get fat and end up costing the NHS.

It’s all very well the government saying that it’s the only pleasure the working classes get, taking their dogs out for a nice shit. Typically patronising New Labour.

Well it’ll never happen. And if you want to know why you just have to look at the millions the Treasury rakes in from VAT on dog food.

Nice little earner there, Gordon.

So here are two solutions.

Firstly, provide concerned citizens with portable electric DNA testers, fitted with a prongy probe. (This would have to be disposable). These would be connected via satellite to a central database of doggy DNA.

If a match were found between some dog shit and a registered dog, the database would then send a signal to an electrical collar fitted around the dog’s neck. Or, even better, the owner’s neck. Three strikes and you’re out.

But my second point is more fundamental. Given the massive advances in genetic technology, I fail to see why we continue to breed dogs with bowels.